


A Better Tomorrow

by WriterByMidnight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Always Keep Fighting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Protective Dean Winchester, Reader-Insert, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Supportive Dean, Understanding Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 14:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10641327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterByMidnight/pseuds/WriterByMidnight
Summary: Dean comforts a depressed, and slightly suicidal reader.-Can be read as general or You/Dean





	

You laid sleepless in your bed. You were incredibly tired, but you couldn't sleep; Even when you did it wasn't rejuvenating like it should be.  
Tears dripped down your reddened face as you went over everything you've seemingly done wrong in your life. Even if it wasn't truly your fault, you had the guilt glued to you like it was. You felt used and useless. Toxic people would use you after you "befriended" them, for your kind heart was too empathetic and giving. You gave and gave until there was nothing left, then you were tossed aside. The person left your life, like nothing ever happened.  
Maybe you were too soft.  
Maybe you deserved to be used that way since you so blindly let it happen.  
Maybe you-  
  
"(Y/N)?" Dean's voice called out from behind your door, interrupting your thoughts. "Are you alright?"  
Quickly wiping tears from your face, you sniffled before replying, "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"  
"I just thought I heard-" Dean sighed. "Can I please come in?"  
You gathered your courage and called back, "Y-Yeah, I guess."  
  
The door swung open, creaking as it did. Dean's face was lit up in the dim hallway, an expression of worry upon his features.  
"Were you crying just now?" He asked.  
You gulped and rubbed at your eyes, mocking tiredness. "No, I'm just sleepy. Don't worry."  
Dean breathed softly before stepping in your room and closing the door behind him. "Don't lie to me." He spoke, his voice low and serious.  
  
Overwhelmed by emotion, you just broke down crying again. What was the use in hiding it if Dean had already figured you out. Dean rushed to your side, kneeling at the edge of your bed and cradling your face in his hands.  
"What's up, (Y/N)?" He asked over your cries, his eyebrows knit together.  
"I just-I don't know." You stuttered. "I just-"  
Dean shushed you, trying to calm your pain. He ran his fingers through the strands of your hair.

"Let's get you calmed down first. Then if you wanna talk it out, I'm here." He promised. "C'mere."  
At his beckon, you draped yourself over his shoulders. Dean smoothed the pajama shirt that was crinkled and sticking to your back. He held you close and tight and didn't let go. You breathed in the familiar scent of leather and alcohol.  
  
"Deep breaths, (Y/N)." Dean reminded you.  
"I-I c-can't." You panted, your warm breath grazing his shoulder.  
Dean pulled back at gazed at your tear-stained face. "You can. Follow me." He took an exaggerated slow breath, and you tried your very best to follow.  
Within minutes, you were much calmer. Dean pulled your frame close to himself again.  
"See. Much better." He praised. "Do you want to lay down and talk about it?" Dean asked you comfortingly, and you nodded sharply.  
  
Once you'd moved into your bed, Dean pulled the covers over you and sat down on the edge.  
"Now," He smiled. "I'm all ears."  
You took a shuddering inhale, and Dean grasped your hand in both of his. "I feel really guilty."  
"About what?" Dean prodded and gave his head a slight tilt.  
"Everything. I feel guilty and hopeless and it's gotten to the point where I don't want to-" You stopped. You didn't feel like you could hurt Dean by saying flat out that you wanted to be dead. How could anyone say that openly?  
  
"You don't want to what?" Dean questioned tenderly, already sensing where you might be going.  
"I can't say it." You said in a hushed whisper.  
Dean's eyes dropped to the floor. He licked his lips slowly and breathed deep, trying to stay composed. "You'd rather die." He choked out.  
Tears welled up in your eyes yet again. "How did yo-"  
"Don't think I don't know. I've been in your position, (Y/N). Hell, I've probably been in worse of a position." Dean admitted. "But you've gotta keep fighting. I know, I know how stupid and repetitive it sounds, but it's the only choice."  
  
"I'm sorry." You whispered, feeling even guiltier for opening up even slightly.  
"It's okay, you did nothing wrong." Dean promised. "The only wrong you could commit in this situation is checking out way too early by-" He paused, "by killing yourself." Dean looked visibly upset at this point. "I know it hurts, kid, but you just have to keep going. The only way out is through the pain. Giving up solves nothing."  
  
"Thank you." You breathed through the tears. Dean just shushed you and pet your hair.  
"It may not be better today. However, tomorrow is another new day, maybe it'll be better then." Dean spoke quietly. "Always look out for your better tomorrows."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Always Keep Fighting.


End file.
